Playing with Poppets
by ohmygiddyaunt
Summary: Miss Swann has had it up to here with Pintel and Ragetti. Post DMC, spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

This was concieved a oneshot, but then it mutated...

Know that it follows the end of DMC, and also that I am still working on the Jack the Monkey endorsement. Enjoyeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Playing with Poppets

The time, she decided, had come. This bright, breezy morning she had arrived early above deck, her hair neatly secured with a string, and her taught nerves hidden beneath a confident stride. In fact, she fairly swaggered aft, deliberately pacing herself as she came abreast of her targets. The daft duo was unenthusiastically coiling a line as thick as her ankle, but her proximity drew the expected response. Pintel dropped the rope, dusted his hands on his filthy trousers, and sent her a yellow leer—"Oi, Poppet! Seein' as yor' dressed for work an' all, 'ow 'bout you come over 'ere an' 'elp give me rope a pull!" Ragetti fell to giggling as he used his fingertips to rotate his wooden iris toward her. "'Ave 'er pull me rope, too, if it ain't to 'eavy for 'er," supplied the skinny pirate, and the pair stood cackling at their own wit.

"Actually, I might have a bit of business with the both of you," she held a straight face; "I thought, perhaps, a game…."

The laughter had stopped, and one and a half pairs of eyes locked onto her in confusion (the wooden one had gone askew again). "A wot?"—Pintel.

"A game."

"Wot kind of game?"—Pintel, again.

"The kind where if I win, you must do something for me, and if -you- win, I must do…something…for you."

"Wot's 'something'?"—Ragetti.

"Anything."

The two pirates gawped at her until the possibilities began to bubble up in their pickled brains, at which point a not-very-nice sort of glee wrinkled their sunburned faces.

"An' wot be the rules of yer little game?" Pintel queried, almost softly.

"It's one against one, so perhaps you'll want to go first?" An affirmative nod from the balding scoundrel.

"Very well," said Elizabeth, taking a step back and gracefully drawing her sword. "The first to cry 'halt', loses."


	2. Chapter 2

A couple of days previous…

They were doing it again.

Despite her consuming guilt and misery, Elizabeth had left the privacy of her tiny cabin to spare herself from its oven-worthy temperature. Despite her misery, she had climbed the steps to the forecastle deck of their "borrowed" ship, taken a position beside the bowsprit, and tried to imagine where they were going. Despite her misery, she was unable to ignore the howls and chattering of the pair of obnoxious monkeys up in the rigging (no, not –that- monkey—the real monkey was actually kind of cute, despite his sticky fingers). "You look good in them breeches, Poppet!" And then, "Aye, but you'd look better out of 'em!"

She turned her eyes back out over the shining waves, trying to focus on the horizon that they chased. Then a hand fell upon her shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Sorry, sorry, it's only me,"—Will. She turned to him, her eyes radiating pain. "Elizabeth," he started, carefully, "—WILL YOU BLOODY SHUT UP!" This last, of course, directed at the idiots swinging well out of reach, telling him how he wasn't likely to "get any" tonight. Pintel and Ragetti, well aware of the young man's protective nature, decided it was, indeed, time to get back to checking the sheets.

"I'm very sorry about that," Will turned sheepishly back to Elizabeth, whose eyes were still wide from his surprising volume and…choice of language. Regaining her composure, she quirked her lips a little. "You don't always have to apologize to me, you know. It's all already forgiven."

Will caught her eyes with his. "That's a relief. You already understand, then."

Elizabeth's heart rose fluttering into her throat. This was it, then. This was, for all intent and purpose, Will's goodbye to her. "Understand?" she whispered.

"Yes…if you offer me forgiveness, without my even having to ask…" he squeezed her upper arm with his left hand, and brushed a stray hair behind her ear with his right, "I cannot but offer you the same."

Seeing the disbelief weighting her expression, Will resorted to communicating as clearly as he knew how. He drew closer, and mustered up all the sincerity he, a chronically sincere person, had ever had.

"I love you. Always."

A/N I apologize beforehand...I will not be updating until I get home Monday, but maybe that bit of age will make the cheese...I mean, the story...all the better. Huzzah!


	3. Chapter 3

As they say, obstacles were encountered, ensued, were overcome. Or something like that. Really, Giddy just had to go see the movie a third time for 'inspiration' (aye candy).

* * *

Two pirates perched aloft on a spar, inconspicuously following the action in the bow. The lankier man stretched his neck for a better view. 

"Now they's 'oldin' 'ands," he commentated. "I think 'e must just be bet'er with the ladies than we is."

"Naw," returned his balding, bearded cohort. "E's just prit'ier than us."

The first looked somewhat offended. "Yor sayin' we ain't prit'y?

"O'course I ain't sayin' that," he snapped at the ridiculous question. "But maybe, as 'e looks so much like a girl, 'e gots some kinda girly connection with 'em."

"So, like I said, 'e's bet'er with the girls."

"No…sorta…'oo bloody cares? 'E's back in with 'er, so we ain't got no chance no more!"

The blond steadied himself on the spar with one hand, uncrossing his wooden eye with thegrimy fingers of the other, and then fell into a pout. "That don't mean we can't tease 'er no more, right? It's the most fun I've had wiv' a girl in years!"

The other sighed. "Not while 'e's there, with that red 'ot poker up 'is arse." Looking down, he mumbled, ruefully, "To bad Norry the Commodorry jumped ship. Least 'e could laugh at 'imself, when 'e was awash."

Below and forward, Elizabeth had found words again. She would not let Will make this easy for her. She did not deserve it, and she would not rely on his charity and good nature to salvage a part of 'them'—it made her feel weak and without volition. Craving justice upon herself, she would arm him with daggers and throw herself upon them. She took his hand, warm and work-worn, and held it to her breast with both of her own. Eyes averted, she murmured softly, "What is it you forgive me so freely, Will? What do you know of what I have done? I know you have some idea—I saw how hurt you were, and I know you still are. You are hopeless at lying, you know."

"Elizabeth, I—it isn't necessary—"

"Yes, it is. You will know all of it, or I will accept no forgiveness from you."

Will flushed, and his youthful face contorted in what seemed an attempt to smile. There was only hurt in it, and some shame. "I saw you kiss him. I thought—I thought that kiss was for me, but you gave it to him, all of it. I know you meant it; I could see that much. I just thought," The young man, who had only recently really grown into himself, struggled for the words to reach this being he needed so desperately, "I wanted you to know that, if it wasn't…as much…with Jack as it was with me, and you would rather…"

"I see," Elizabeth spoke, saving him from stammering on needlessly, "You want to forgive me. Maybe you can. But, can Jack?"

Her friend and one-time fiancé wrinkled his brow in confusion. "Jack, forgive you?"

"Jack was a survivor, Will. You don't think a man who grasped opportunity like he did would simply stand still and die?" She looked straight into his expressive eyes now; 'Let him know what I have done. Let him judge me then, and he will free himself.' "I killed him. I killed him with a kiss that I stole from you. I bound him to his dying ship to save the rest of us, and I ran like the pirate I am. He came back to _help_ us,"—her eyes were filling with hot tears, against her will—"and I _murdered_ him!"

William Turner stood frozen, stunned. He had wondered at the eccentric captain's last-minute decision, but had never, for an instant, suspected that he hadn't made it himself. Tears running down her face now, Elizabeth released his hand as he turned to look out over the gleaming billows of the sea. She did not run, though. She would face this, at least; besides, where on this bounded craft could she go that would shield her from his knowing?

His eyes locked still on the unchanging horizon, he asked the one question whose answer mattered right now.

"Would you do it again?"

She would not lie.

"Yes."

He did not turn. And Elizabeth, because she was being honest, realized she had to be honest with herself, too.

"I would do it again, but not for myself. I would kill, Will. I would kill, if it would save you."

The headwind carried the bow spray aft, and silence.


End file.
